


kiss it better

by troubadore



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29205192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubadore/pseuds/troubadore
Summary: “There we go,” he says, helping Geralt to the ground. His hands are dark with blood in the firelight, but he ignores it. Geralt will befine. “We’ll get you fixed up in no time. Let me grab your potions—”A hand on his arm stops him, and Jaskier turns back, impatient. He doesn’t havetimefor this. He has to get those potions so Geralt will starthealing. “Geralt, what—”Geralt's gaze is unfocused as he looks up at Jaskier, and his voice is nothing but a whisper, almost too soft to hear as he gets out a hoarse, “Kiss me.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 146





	kiss it better

**Author's Note:**

> _(:3 」∠ )_

When he sees the way Geralt is limping as he comes back to camp, Jaskier drops the bowl he’d been ladling soup into and rushes over to him.

“Geralt! What’s wrong? What happened?”

His hands reach for his witcher just as he collapses forward, and he grunts as he takes Geralt’s weight so he doesn’t end up on the ground. He feels warm liquid seeping between his fingers through Geralt's shirt where he’s lost chunks of his armor; he’s bleeding—badly.

“Garkain,” he gasps. He sucks in a sharp breath, arm curled against the side Jaskier isn’t supporting. “Didn’t know it was an alpha.”

Jaskier can’t quite remember what a garkain is—a type of vampire, he thinks he remembers Geralt telling him once upon a time—but from the look of it, it’s nothing good.

“Sounds fun,” he says with faux-cheer, though nothing about the sight of his witcher coming back to him bleeding and limping is  _ fun.  _ “At least it’s dead now, right?”

Geralt breathes heavily in response, the sound ragged and pained. Jaskier’s chest clenches, seizing with panic, and he half-carries half-drags his witcher over to the campfire so he can tend the wounds, murmuring soft, encouraging nonsense to distract himself as much as Geralt.

“There we go,” he says, helping Geralt to the ground. His hands are dark with blood in the firelight, but he ignores it. Geralt will be  _ fine.  _ “We’ll get you fixed up in no time. Let me grab your potions—”

A hand on his arm stops him, and Jaskier turns back, impatient. He doesn’t have  _ time _ for this. He has to get those potions so Geralt will start _healing_. “Geralt, what—”

Geralt's gaze is unfocused as he looks up at Jaskier, and his voice is nothing but a whisper, almost too soft to hear as he gets out a hoarse, “Kiss me.”

It takes a moment for his brain to process the words, but then Jaskier lets out a slightly hysterical laugh, his heart fluttering. “Oh, you fool,” he says, bringing Geralt's hand up to press a kiss to the knuckles. “Let me get your potions, and then I'll kiss you better all you like.”

Geralt makes a pained, whining sound. “Jask—”

“You’re not dying, Geralt of Rivia,” he interrupts, making his tone as firm and sure as he can. He kneels down again though, unable to resist. Their lips are a breath apart as he whispers, “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

He kisses his witcher gently, wary of upsetting the wounds worse, before pulling away and going for Roach and their saddlebags where the potions and other medical supplies are kept.

Geralt is out cold when he returns, and Jaskier bites his lip and sets to work. He forces the healing potions into his witcher as best he can, and then begins the tedious process of getting him out of his ruined armor enough to sew up the worst of the gashes and wrap the rest.

He sits back when he’s done all he can do, shoulders slumping. He aches down to his bones from the stress and worry and isn’t sure he’ll be able to sleep at all. Regardless, he cleans up their supplies and arranges his bedroll as close to Geralt’s as possible.

He lies down beside his witcher, near enough to feel the heat of his body, and counts the slow cadence of his breaths. Thankfully, Geralt remains asleep and breathing steady and strong.

“In the morning,” he murmurs, reaching out to lay his hand above Geralt's heart, feeling its slow beats. “In the morning, I’ll keep my promise. If you still want me to.”

It may have been the pain and blood loss, the heat of the moment, the last wish of a man who thinks he’s about to die and it’s his last chance to have what he thinks he can’t, but he hopes fervently that Geralt meant it when he asked for Jaskier to kiss him.

He closes his eyes, hoping for sleep to take him quickly.

When dawn breaks, Jaskier stirs from the fitful sleep he’d fallen into to the soft, rhythmic feeling of a thumb caressing his cheek. He opens his eyes to see the beautiful gold ones of his witcher watching him in return.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, leaning into the touch. The look Geralt is giving him, if possible, softens even more.

“Better,” he answers. His voice is still rough, but much stronger than the night before. “Thank you.”

“Always,” Jaskier promises. Geralt is still caressing his cheek, still looking at him as if the sun rises and sets upon his shoulders. A smile starts curling his mouth as he remembers another thing from the night before. Hope fills his chest, a light, buoyant feeling. “Do you still want me to kiss it better?” 

Geralt's answering smile as he leans in is all the answer he needs. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/troubadorer) // [tumblr](http://geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek.tumblr.com)


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